


To Skin a Spy

by LyricDreamweaver



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassian Anatomy, Cardassian possessiveness, Dukat is an asshole, Garak's chip is working perfectly fine, Hurt No Comfort, Julian doesn't deserve this, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-05 23:17:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricDreamweaver/pseuds/LyricDreamweaver
Summary: One of the worst methods or torture is not to break the person, but to break the person closest to them. Dukat knows exactly how to go about this.





	To Skin a Spy

“I can’t make you talk, Garak,” Dukat sighed, disappointment heavy in his tone. “There is one more thing I can try.”

Crossing the room and ignoring his captive: Garak bound to a chair, bleeding and panting. Already, the ex-spy had been through two orgasms, fluid soaking into his hips. He was morbidly curious to see what Dukat would try now and trying not to be too bothered by the itching wound on his neck, scales pulled off rather violently.

“Bring in Bashir,” Dukat said into his comm badge.

Julian was brought in, wrists bound in front of him and looking around wildly. His clothing had been torn just enough and there was a concerning bruise along the doctor’s left cheekbone. 

Realization hit Garak like Dukat never could. His chest seized with guilt and fear, not for him but for the human.

“Dukat, leave him alone,” Garak begged.

“I don’t think I will, Garak.” Dukat shoved Julian, making him stumble. “I’ve inflicted practically every kind of pain on you and yet you grin.”

Julian licked his lips, looking at the table of torture tools, ignoring the blood. Garak could see the gears turning and he had no doubts his dear doctor was working on some sort of escape plan. He only hoped Dukat would be stupid enough.

“Do you like what you see?” Dukat asked Julian. “Unfortunately, I have different plans for you.”

Dukat made to sweep the tools off the table before regarding a rather wicked looking knife with a curved blade. He set it aside before sending the rest of the tools scattering across the tile, metal clinking against ceramic. He let the human have his moment of desperation before hoisting Julian up, bending him over the table.

"Look at him," Dukat ordered, breath hot against the doctor’s neck and the grip on Julian's hip turning into a bruising force. "I would hate to have to gouge those eyes out of your head, doctor."

Julian, reluctantly, opened his eyes, looking at Garak, the Cardassian looking sorry for everything that had ever happened, from the accident of his birth up to this point. That hurt Julian more than anything Dukat could do. He mouthed, 'I'll be okay,' and Garak hung his head in shame.

"Look at him, Garak. I want you to watch as I break him."

Garak, reluctantly, looked up, but he was looking _through_ Julian instead of directly at him. It satisfied Dukat enough.

Dukat ground his hips against Julian, the doctor feeling something distinctly _alien_ against him. 

Dukat reached for a knife, taking great care to cut only Julian's uniform—he ran the blade along Julian's back, making him stiffen, and exposed Julian's upper back, then tore at the human's trousers—not wanting to hurt him more than necessary. Leaning in, Dukat sunk teeth into Julian's shoulder, making the human hiss in pain as the Cardassian broke his skin.

"You taste . . . sweet," Dukat mused, nuzzling against Julian as if he was a lover. 

"Stop," Julian begged. 

Dukat hummed, knife set far away from Julian. "I can't. I have to do this."

"You don't," Julian said. "Dukat, please--"

Dukat grabbed Julian's throat, applying just enough pressure to stop his pleading. "Perhaps, when this is all over, I'll dress you in something extravagant. Andorian silk, perhaps? What do you think Garak?"

Garak curled his fingers into fists, struggling against the ties and succeeding only in getting rope burn. "Dukat, please, be kind to Julian."

Dukat, gently letting go of Julian's throat, stared at the other Cardassian. "Garak. I am going to claim him for my own. You cannot stop me."

And Dukat took only a moment to adjust his own clothing, exposing only his anatomy, both shafts half-everted with the friction. But Dukat was not needlessly cruel. He held Julian's hip gently, as he stroked himself to a fully-erect state. He ground himself against the doctor again, lubricant spreading over Julian's entrance.

"Dukat--"

"Hush."

Slowly, the Gul entered him and Julian had an idea of what proper Cardassian anatomy was like. It _hurt._ Spines dug into Julian, making the human thrash against the Cardassian, natural impulses driving way from pain instead of toward freedom.

"Stop," Garak begged, voice cracking. "Dukat, please."

"Does it upset you?" Dukat asked, simply tightening his grip on Julian. "I can assure you he will be mine and, with that comes the benefit of being bathed, dressed, allowed to rest until I am finished with you _Garak._ "

Julian prided himself on being able to handle plenty of pain. However, this felt like he was being violated with blades, torn apart. Hopefully, after this, Dukat would relent, allow him something to numb the pain. 

Dukat rocked almost gently into Julian, sighing softly with satisfaction. "I can understand why Garak loves you."

Julian had never despised having abnormal stamina. He despised that he couldn't simply black out. He despised every silky moan Dukat made, despised every gentle touch while the Cardassian fucked him roughly, despised.

Dukat sunk teeth into the back of Julian's neck, leaving a mark he would make sure scarred, and filled him. 

With climax, all his rage seemed to dissipate, gently pulling out of Julian, kissing along his shoulders, the back of his neck, the middle of his back. Dukat went to the door, allowing a Jem'Hadar to bring a soft robe for Julian, wrists free of rope only to be put in cuffs.

"Give him a warm bath," Dukat said. "And then make sure he stays in bed to rest."

The Jem'Hadar nodded, taking Julian, sore and bleeding and sniffling, away. 

"Now, Garak, what was that about telling me everything?" Dukat asked, picking up a pair of pliers.

* * *

"There's nothing I love more than an execution," Dukat purred, skinning an apple with a wickedly curved knife. "Garak was always a traitor."

Julian nodded, quiet since the night Dukat had claimed him. Part of it was stubbornness, refusing to give Dukat the satisfaction, and part of it was trauma. Every time he opened his mouth, he began shaking, remembering whispering _no_ over and over.

He poured a glass of kanar for Dukat, his robs of blue silk moving, flowing beautifully with the natural motions of his body. He tried to hide his eyeing the knife the Cardassian held. 

"I can't stand a traitor." Dukat set the knife down, taking a sip of the kanar. "You, Julian, are so sweet, so thoughtful and kind."

Julian lowered himself to his knees, hands wandering up Dukat's thighs, his eyes meeting Dukat's, a submissive and inconspicuous gesture. He licked his lips and took the knife in his hand before Dukat could stop him.


End file.
